


5 times Quentin Quire tried to get choked out and 1 time he did

by orphan_account



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics)
Genre: 5 Times, Asphyxiation, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, plus 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin discovers a kink of his he didn't know about, and decides it needs to be explored. But he has some trouble trying to find someone willing to play along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend kept talking me into writing this. I don't think it turned out that good, but we're also of the opinion that this fandom desperately needs porn...So oh well.

It started with a danger room exam. Quentin was walking through the hallways of school unassumingly—or well, he was sneaking through the halls, having just broken out of detention—when that wretched AI voice rang out; “Danger Room exam—begin.”  
“Dammit,” The telepath murmured, trying to make quick work of the exam…he was trying to get back to the dorms where he could relax. Dodging the lasers was relatively easy…at least, if he pretended he didn’t mind his clothes getting singed. Knocking out the sentry robots with his shotgun had been a piece of cake as well, and he figured he would get out of this without a hitch. Then the robot arms shot out from the walls, catching him off-guard. As much as Quentin Quire hated being one-upped, and hated admitting he had been one-upped, it was definitely what had happened. 

“Shit,” He cursed, scrabbling against the thick metal chords as they wound around his limbs, lifting him bodily off the floor. “Sh—“ He was cut off as one of the arms wrapped around his neck. This was bad. He was panicking too much to focus his telekinetic energy into a weapon—something he was unused to and decidedly disliked. The arm was clamped tightly around his neck, and his vision began to blur in the way it did when he didn’t keep his glasses on. His sense started going foggy—yet oddly, a jolt of electricity shot down his spine…a high he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. Blood started rushing south. His wheezing breath turned into a whine.  
Then it was over. 

“Your grade is a D.” The AI voiced, the exam shutting off as quickly as it had started. The arms dropped him on the floor hard. He landed on his knees, hard, panting. The tile floor was cold against his palms and his legs but didn’t do anything to dissuade the throbbing in his pants.  
“Fuck,” He gasped, voice raw and scratchy. “That’s new.”


	2. 5 times

**Attempt 1: Idie Okonkwo (Oya)**

Quentin and Idie were flopped down on a couch, both sans shirts, watching the television on mute. It was what passed for a date in Quentin Quire’s mind, and Idie either didn’t know better or didn’t really care too much. Their lips were already swollen from a fair amount of kissing and fondling, and Quentin’s thin chest heaved with exertion as if he’d just run laps. Idie shirtless seemed to have that effect on a fair amount of boys.

“Hey, Idie, can I ask you something weird?” His pale hands tapped out a beat against her flat stomach, her dark brown skin contrasting them startlingly.  
“Don’t you always ask weird things?” She answered, smiling disarmingly. Though he would never own up to it, that smile made the telepath’s heart do a stupid little pitter-patter against his ribcage.  
“Not…usually this weird. I don’t think.” He sat up a bit, leaning over her so he could nibble at her ear, catching her earring in his mouth as his hand moved to one of her breasts.  
“That is not a question.”

“Would you choke me?” He blurted out, pulling back. He had planned—in vain, clearly—to whisper it in her ear or be seductive somehow or other, but that had backfired fantastically. Idie started laughing, which just made things worse. “It’s not a joke! I…I want to try it out okay?” He collapsed back onto the couch, crossing his arms and pouting.  
“Oh. Quentin, no, I couldn’t do such a thing to you.” She smiled again, softer, and sighed. “Not all of us want to go along with your self-destructive tendencies you know.”

“That has nothing to do with this!”  
“Mmhm. I’m not going to add that to my sins for you Quentin. You’ve already added enough.”  
“Fiiiiiiiine.” Quentin whined, trying to keep the tone of petulance out of his voice and failing spectacularly.  
"Can we at least make out some more?”  
“Of course.” Idie chuckled as Quentin found his place again on top of her, their mouths locking together as some old movie played silently in the background.

_____________________________________________  
  


**Attempt 2: Evan Sabahnur (Genesis)**

Lunch had just let out, and Evan was planning to head back to his dorms when he was slammed not-too-delicately into a wall.  
“Kid Apocalypse,” Quentin drawled smugly, one hand on Evan’s shoulder still from when he had shoved him.  
“Quentin. Don’t…don’t call me that.” The boy responded, sighing heavily. Quentin pulled his hand back and raised both of them in mock surrender.  
“Okay, okay, _Evan_. I’m not here to fight anyway—“  
“Really?” The telepath gave Evan a sharp look at the interruption, but continued.  
“—I’m here to ask for a favor.”  
“A favor?” The dark-haired teen felt apprehensive. If he was honest, the butterflies in his gut every time Quentin talked to him would likely ensure he’d go along with it anyway, but he wasn’t so sure about what kind of favors the pink-haired kid would be trying to call in.

“Yeah. Hm…maybe we should go somewhere private.” Evan was shoved into the wall again, though for very different reasons. The closet was small and cramped, and even if Quentin wasn’t purposely pressing every inch of his lithe body against the taller boy they’d still be touching. A shelf was shoved into his middle back, but when Quentin rolled his hips against his he found it hard to care. “Shit,” The smaller boy hissed, taking one of Evan’s pale hands and moving it to his throat.

“Do it, Evan, fuckin’ choke me.” Rolling his hips again, Quentin moaned for added effect. The sound made Evan’s cock twitch, but Quentin’s words made him pull back.  
“Wh-what?”  
“Choke me.” Quentin demanded, trying to get the pale hand to wrap around his neck.  
“No! What? I’m not doing that!”  
“You gotta be kidding me.” Quentin rolled his eyes and slammed Evan into the wall for the third time today—this time very unkindly. “Brainwashed fuckin’ sheep everywhere.” He slammed his way out of the custodial closet, leaving Evan behind to deal with his lingering erection alone.

________________________________________________  
  
  
 **Attempt 3: Megan Gwynn (Pixie)**

“So, I heard people with magic powers are prettyyyyy kinky.” Quentin slid onto the bench with Megan, his eyebrows raised suggestively.  
“No.”  
“What? I didn’t ask anything!” The pink-haired girl stood up, dusting off her skirt.  
“I am not touching you. Not your throat or any other part of you. Get lost, Quire.” Her wings began beating, picking up speed before she flew off, shaking her head.  
“Did Idie fucking snitch??”

__________________________________________  
  
  
 **Attempt 4: Kubark (Kid Gladiator)**

“Hey, space-case. I’ve got a proposition for you.” Quentin sidled up to the redhead after school had let out. He was, predictably, in the workout room, pounding away at a punching bag. His jumpsuit was peeled off his upper body, which barely had a layer of sweat—it looked like it was taking no effort at all for him to punch the sack to pieces…which he honestly was doing. “Hey! Asshole with the trihawk!” Quentin yelled, flushing pink with anger at being ignored. This asshole always ended up ignoring him. Still, the shouting seemed to reach the alien.

“Quire? I’m busy. Kid Gladiator needs his daily punching quota.”  
“It’s about your punching quota, actually.” The pink-haired mutant spread his arms wide, looking inviting. “Punching and strangling. Namely me.” Kubark lowered his arms, his interest piqued.  
“You want to be beaten up by Kid Gladiator?”  
“Yesssss,” Quentin said, drawing out the S sound with a needy hiss. “Press me against the wall and fuckin’ choke me.”

Without further questioning the prince had Quentin pinned against the wall, a huge grin on his face. Instinctually Quentin’s hands gripped at the older teen’s wrist and his legs kicked out against him, but it had no effect. The telepath nearly went cross-eyed as the blood rushed downward, his cock twitching to life in his pants. Kubark’s grip was tight, cutting off the the air completely.  
“Interesting reaction to being beaten,” The alien boy commented, raising an eyebrow. He had noticed Quentin’s rather obvious erection. “Or maybe I just have that effect on you weak-minded earthlings.” The telepath attempted to roll his eyes, but was unsure of if he succeeded.

“This is fun!” Kubark commented, slamming his fist into Quentin’s gut. The pink haired teen lashed out purposefully this time, his boot landing a solid blow on the redhead’s chest. In confusion, Kubark let go of his throat, sending the smaller teen crashing to the floor.  
“Watch it firecrotch,” Quentin croaked, voice absolutely wrecked. “I wanted to be choked.”  
“You said this would fufill my punching quota as well, Quire.”  
“Ugh, I fuckin’ lied. Jesus, princess, do you ever take off those stupid shades? They’re annoying as hell.” He reached for Kubark’s glasses, only to have his hand pinned to the wall.

“I think I’ll just go back to punching you. You were enjoying it anyway.” Kubark nodded his head towards the bulge that Quentin was still sporting.  
“Hit me again and I will fry your brain faster than white trash fries their poultry.” He said, sending a spike of pain through Kubark’s mind telepathically. The alien barely winced, but he still seemed to take the threat seriously.  
“Fine. Next time you want Kid Gladiator’s help with your perversions, don’t expect it.” Kubark stood up and went back to wailing on the gym’s half-destroyed punching bag. Quentin cursed under his breath, rubbing his neck. He could feel the bruises developing, and it sent another wave of pleasure shooting down his spine. Dammit, he had something good there going for a bit. He’d just have to try someone else, he supposed.

____________________________________________________  
  
  
 **Attempt 5: Alisa Tager (Cipher)**

Quentin tried to pretend this wasn’t desperation. But it definitely was. Any more desperate and he’d be turning to Glob Hermann. He shuddered at the thought. But, honestly, this couldn’t be that bad right?  
“Right…” He told himself, bracing himself to knock at Alisa’s dorm door.  
“What do you want?” The voice from behind him made him jump, and he turned around to see the girl he was looking for standing right there.

“Uh, hey Cipher, I was wondering if I could pull in a favor?”  
“Why would I owe you any type of favor.” She put a hand on her hip and stared at him flatly, waiting for an answer.  
“Look, I can’t tell what you’re thinking, Cipher. Literally. I like that. Just hear me out, okay?”

He had no idea what he had done right to get here, but Quentin Quire was decidedly enjoying the ride as Alisa’s hands wrapped around his throat. She hadn’t scoffed at his request or anything. She had simply led him inside her dorm, shoved him down on the bed, and got to work. She was good at it too, her hands pressing just hard enough to make him dizzy, but not so hard that he couldn’t speak up if need be.

He wondered if she’d done this before, but the thought was hazy and far away as he rolled his hips up against her. He was usually the one doing the straddling, and feeling her heat pressing down on his hips was strangely exhilarating. But of course it didn’t last. He was starting to get twitchy, his cock hard and aching, twitching against the pressure of her sitting on him, and Alisa was clearly getting excited as well. And that was the problem. Her breathing grew ragged, and slowly but surely, she flickered out of sight.

“Cipher—fuck—“ Quentin wheezed, pulling her hands away from his throat. “No, no, I can’t, the…the invisible thing is too weird.”  
“Um, rude. Who else are you gonna find in this place who’s gonna choke you for fun?” Quentin shrugged.  
“I dunno. I didn’t even think you were going to agree.”  
“You don’t know anything about me, Quentin.”  
“Exactly.” Quentin said. “Maybe some other time. Maybe.”  
“I doubt it.” Cipher answered. “Take your stuff and leave.” She rolled her eyes and walked through the wall. That other time definitely wasn’t going to happen.


	3. Plus 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Quentin finds someone to choke him.

“Quire. I heard you’ve been harassing students.” Logan glared at the pink-haired teen, who was currently lounging in the chair across from him, combat boots propped up on Logan’s desk and, promptly, a fair amount of his paperwork.  
“Me? Never.” Quentin smirked smugly, running a hand through his Mohawk. Logan grunted, stood up (ignoring the teen’s flinch when he did so), and walked over to his office door, locking it. Quentin tried to mask the worry that he felt crossing his expression.  
“Choking, huh?” Logan asked, casually walking back to his chair, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans.

“Who told you?” Quentin said, a cross between anger and alarm.  
“You don’t need to know that.”  
“I bet it was the sleazoid,” The telepath muttered unhappily, crossing his arms. “So what does this have to do with you, _Professor_?” Quentin added extra venom to the word, shifting in his seat a bit. “Or maybe you’re thinkin’ about getting all choke-happy on Kid Omega? Dirty old man.”  
“Kid, you can make or break this deal, and right now yer mighty close to breakin’ it.”

“Wait, what?” Quentin took his feet off the desk so he could sit up straight, not even attempting to mask the shock on his face. He had thought that thing in Logan’s office last year was, well, a one-off kind of gig. That there wouldn’t be any more of this. Apparently he thought wrong. Logan rolled his eyes.  
“Look, against my better judgment—“ He tried to ignore the snicker from the pink-haired teen and continued, “I have a solution for this. It’s simple enough. If someone wants to be choked and won’t stop bugging everyone on the flamin’ earth until it happens…just make it happen.”

“Oh my god.” Quentin blinked some more, as if it would make Wolverine disappear. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around this—it felt more like a bad porno plot than his real life.  
“How about we go somewhere…more private, if this is gonna happen.”  
“What?”  
“You do want this still, right Quire? Or is the big bad Wolverine too scary for you?” Logan smirked. It seemed like a bit of a gambit—he was trying to see if the telepath would say no, which could get him off the hook of this whole situation. But there was no way in a thousand years that Quentin Quire was going to turn this opportunity down.  
“Fuck no. Let’s see what you got, old man.”

 

_____________________________________________________

Quentin’s heart sped up as Logan pushed him down onto the bed. The older man’s hands were so big, warm and calloused. Quentin was already half-hard just thinking about those hands. The thick fingers leaving fresh bruises on his throat, pinning him down as Logan pounded into him—it practically made his mouth water.  
“Take off your clothes,” Logan grunted, eyes sweeping over Quentin’s lithe form before going back to staring at the teen’s face. The pink-haired telepath complied, tugging his t-shirt over his head and squirming his way out of his shorts while trying to toe off his boots. If he was honest with himself, he got a bit tripped up taking off his shoes. Logan snorted, but Quentin ignored it. He laid down on the bed, his body bared, erection dripping and ready.

“Come on, daddy, fuck me up.” It had just slipped out of his mouth without him really expecting it, but the telepath decided he liked it. He smirked. A daddy kink. Who knew. Logan growled, tugging off his shirt and moving to straddle the teen, still wearing his blue jeans. Quentin was about to complain, but then the hand wrapped around his throat.  
“F-fuck,” He choked out, hips thrusting up almost immediately. Embarrassingly enough, he could probably cum from just this.The pressure on his trachea...the high brought on by the lack of oxygen. His vision blurred, tears forming in his eyes as he struggled to choke out words—to egg Logan on further.

Logan let a smug smirk worm its way onto his face for a bit as he pressed down harder, cutting off Quentin’s air supply entirely. The telepath mouthed out desperate curses, legs thrashing as the high swept over him completely, his vision almost whiting out as he came, hard. His cum splattered onto his chest and stomach, and Logan let go of his throat.  
“There. Not a problem anymore.” Logan got off the boy, hiking his jeans up higher, hands brushing against the bulge in them as he moved to go pick up his shirt off the floor.

“W-wait…” Quentin croaked out, rolling onto his side. “Wh….ffffuck, what about…”  
“Kid, I don’t need your help with this, especially when you just got choked out.”  
“I’m fine—“ The teen coughed a bit, chuckling weakly. “Come on. I’ll suck you off.” Logan rolled his eyes, knowing that the telepath would be persistent no matter how right he was about Quire’s current condition. This had basically the same solution as the choking problem. He sighed, undoing his jeans and tugging them down around his furry thighs.  
“Well? Down on your knees, punk.”

Quentin obeyed the order more quickly than he would be willing to admit, altogether too eager. Logan was still wearing his boxer briefs, the bulge of his erection obvious against his thigh. Quentin smirked, pressing his palm against Logan’s thickness and moving to suck on it through the fabric of the man’s underwear.  
“Promise to cum on my face,” The teen implored, nuzzling the bulge in Logan’s underwear. Logan sucked in a breath through his nose—the kid was practically bathed in pheromones.  
“Don’t push your luck—you can’t boss me around, Quire.” Quentin rolled his eyes and muttered some type of insult before pulling down Logan’s underwear, the man’s thick cock bouncing free.

Quentin stopped to admire it, his hand wrapping around the base before he tongued the slit softly, blue eyes staring up at Logan expectantly. A low moan rumbled in Logan’s throat as the teen took more of his cock into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on it, moaning around it like he was the one being sucked off. Logan tried to stop his hips from twitching forward, but when they did, Quentin reacted enthusiastically—the warm heat thrusting up to meet Logan’s dick.  
“Of course you ain’t got a gag reflex.” Logan muttered incredulously as the teen took one of his hands and placed it on the back of his head, against the bristly shaved part under that recognizable pink Mohawk.

He was practically begging to have his face fucked. It had been so long, and the teen was putting off pheromones so strong, that Logan figured there was no point in resisting. After all, the kid liked not being able to breathe, right? Logan gripped the pink locks and shoved his hips forward, reveling in the feel of his cock knocking up against the back of Quentin’s throat—he repeated the movement again and again, moaning loudly as he fucked his cock into the eager mouth. Quentin was moaning like a whore, his telepathic powers pressing against Logan’s mind—not in an invasive way, but just to dirty talk. Thoughts like “fuck, please, more” and “yeah use me like I’m your little slut” pressed against the outer edges of his mind, drawing his closer to his breaking point.

He was about to cum when he remembered Quentin’s earlier request—and, realizing he was already this far gone, decided to comply. He pulled his cock from Quentin’s mouth with a wet pop, appreciating the teen’s swollen, hungry-looking lips and his begging eyes as it clicked into place what Logan was doing. He wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it quickly until hot spurts of cum decorated the telepath’s face, from his pink hairline to his open, wanting mouth. Some of it had splattered on his glasses, but he hardly seemed to care.

“Fuck yeah. Fuckkkk yeah.” He moaned, closing his mouth and licking as much cum as he could off his lips.  
“Goddamn.” He stood up on shakey, pale legs and went to go pick up his clothing off the floor. His neck was sore and he felt as if he couldn’t walk in a straight line no matter how hard he tried. The thought was almost enough to get him hard again. He’d never been so thoroughly used before—and he loved it. He tugged on his shorts and sloppily pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving the room quickly. He had a feeling that his oh-so-moral headmaster would be pretty quick in letting what had just happened catch up with him.

“Note to self: next time, just ask Logan first.” He muttered as he walked down the hallway, hair messy, lips swollen, and bruises already forming on his neck.


End file.
